Granola

People often assume… That living out where there be dragons on the map, means life is highly uneventful. They ask what do I do with myself all day? Or, do I ever get bored being so far from the bright centers of the universe? The answer is… Boredom is rare. I understand most people need endless entertainment, stimulation, and constant excitement… But I originate in a hippy commune, I have been diagnosed with Dyslexia, hit by a car, and traveled all around this planet in the course of my life. I have seen some drama, experienced a wide variety of culture, experienced tragedy and trauma… And those are just small pieces of life before settling here at Wildflower. Then I get asked, do I miss it? As in the world beyond the boundaries of my home here at Wildflower. No. I don’t.

 

Tonight, I sit in the glow of the lamp light as it casts shadows on the floor as usual my time to reflect is after everyone else has gone to bed. I feel the soothing heat and hear the crackle of the wood stove, and I watch the shadows dance to the tune the fire offers. There are whole worlds here at Wildflower, if you know how to look for them and explore them. There are an endless number of tasks to be done. Often my spouse will come home and notice dishes in the sink… There will be some comment. Because he has only just returned from the world outside, beyond the boundaries of the farm. He has not yet noticed all that got done while he was at work. This is when I make a point of informing him, that I for one have no problem converting to Mormonism so we can have a few more wives to get things done around here. Once he is out of his coat he will start to notice some of what I have been up to…

So what am I up to? Depends on the day. Depends on the crispness of the air, weather I can see my breath as it exits my mouth. Depends on my mood and what needs my attention. Today, the weather forecast has been raving about snow. It smelled like snow, my breath hung in the air visibly, like a spot of fog against a swollen grey sky. I often bake when it snows or threatens to. I don’t know why. It has been a habit for many years. Today, I spent half the day baking granola. The smell was absolutely divine. Add to that the fragrance of burning wood and oranges that came from the wood stove fire… Layered over by the glorious aroma of nuts, seeds, oats, warm spices cinnamon and cardamom, and a hint of baking maple syrup… Amazing. The cozy was all consuming.

I cleaned up a bit first, ate, frequently stirred my baking granola, and read my books, which I seem to typically read three at a time. Right now, I am reading one for book club called Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi, I have only just started it so I can only say so much about it. It does draw you in. That much I can say. I like being drawn in. My second book, a personal read, is to further my own love of  folklore, the unusual, strange, and gothic. The Powers Of Darkness. This book, allegedly has a forward by Stoker. It is kind of a literary mystery. Who wrote it? When? What are the details? It was believed to be a translation of Stoker’s Dracula into Icelandic made only a number of years after it was originally published in the UK. No one thought twice about it for probably about 100ish years or so. Then, some genius decided to translate it back from Icelandic to English. A shocking and alarming discovery was made. The Icelandic version of Dracula, is in fact quite a different tale all together! The questions are many including how involved was Stoker? Was it based on an early version he had written and then edited into what we know today? The questions and mysteries surrounding this work are numerous and I am a sucker for a good mystery. Especially one that has a literary origin. The last book I am gradually plowing through is the first book of twelve in a series called, Foxfire, which is about old fashioned homesteading in Appalachia, and the folk traditions and roots of homesteading. These books are critical foundational material for homesteaders and I am enjoying it immensely and learning a lot.

But no, that didn’t take up my whole day. I also made it out to water the food in the greenhouse, finished typing on my antique typewriter some snail mail letters to pen pals in far away lands. Followed that up with time spent with the dog outside.

Dr. Farmer Moomin and I, decided recently, that we moved out here in part to be more old fashioned, and closer to nature, to eat healthier, be more self sufficient, and to create a living example out of this place of another way to live that is substantially less damaging to the planet. These goals coupled with some trauma related to the color orange and lots of lies, have lead us to turn off our tv lately. It has been so triggering to see the shock and horror on news anchor’s faces while listening to the dread and panic in their voices. Now, every evening at dinner, the lights are off, we light the oil lamps and some candles, and eat while we only listen to the dread and fright. Engaging both ears and eyes at once, tuning into that, has just become too much for us. We were feeling hollowed out and like our psyches were being polluted with forever chemicals. This way, not all of our sense are engaged. It helps actually a lot to prevent that triggered feeling or heightened horror.

After dinner, I cleaned up in the glow of the candles and the oil lamps. Then we took a seat still avoiding the tv to listen to something. Dr. Farmer Moomin, sat near to the book shelf. I sat in my comfy chair with my spinning wheel set up in front of it so I could spin while we listened to a very old radio show. One I had always wondered about. Because as the story goes, many people actually thought, because of this radio show, that the planet was under invasion by aliens from outer space. H.G. Wells, War Of The Worlds. It was great. Really an experience in an older way of  life. It ended and I finished my spinning. I am thinking perhaps tomorrow I will be knitting fingerless mittens from the beautiful art yarn I spun tonight.

Bobbin of freshly spun yarn beside the only oil lamp in the house we didn’t light.


Listening to things has begun to be a thing here at Wildflower, lately. It helps us avoid over stimulation and horror. We recently listened to a book by some judge who did one heck of a deep dive on the case of the Lindbergh Baby. She made a pretty tight case against Lindbergh himself. I was quite impressed with her. Tonight it was War Of The Worlds, because we had finished the one about Lindbergh and his baby. We are talking about listening to the 1978 radio version of A Hitch Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy, next. Ironically while the answer might be 42, I am in fact 44. Which means I didn’t come to exist until 2 years after Hitch Hiker’s Guide was made. My husband however would have been about a year old.

The truth is, if you are willing to explore time and place, be creative, and do the work, being bored in a place like Wildflower, most of the time takes a concerted effort. Living here under these conditions seems to be bringing out the best in me. Why would I long for a trip out to a nightclub or a party, when I can roll the telescope out into the cold night, and look up at the millions of whirling, frolicking stars, and follow them through the darkness? What music can beat the sound of the night wind in the trees of our woods and the crickets harmonizing? What community of acquaintances can be of more interest and value than the small community of friends I have worked hard to build here? My social needs are met by the book club, craft circle and the farm animals. I look out from here at everyone beyond the confines of my farm, and I wonder, if any of them have truly found a way to live joyously with themselves… Or is that what the constant need for entertainment is? A distraction, that people can hide from themselves behind? Here we don’t have such distractions due the workload. What is more, we have grown comfortable with ourselves and we don’t need them. There is always something to do and most importantly it is more often than not something worth while. Boredom here is rare.

Well, that is what I have been up to.
Perhaps listening rather than watching can be a strategy for not just me.
I welcome you all to try it.
Peace, is a gift we create for ourselves.
Hold onto yours it has value.
Thank you for reading
Amanda Of Wildflower Farm